


Would You Rather?

by alex_wh0



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Exy (All For The Game), Future Fic, M/M, Post-Canon, Slice of Life, hint of angst with fluff, they are GONE for each other, truth game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:40:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22890106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alex_wh0/pseuds/alex_wh0
Summary: Andrew and Neil's truth game takes a different shape.
Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 22
Kudos: 377





	Would You Rather?

**Author's Note:**

> The year corresponds to the number of years Andrew and Neil have known each other. 
> 
> Thank you for reading. xx I'm on [Tumblr](https://alex-wh0.tumblr.com/) and on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/alex_wh0). Come say hi

_Palmetto, Year 2_

“Would you rather take a knife or a gun to a fight?”

Andrew hummed around his cigarette, subtly hollowing his cheeks as he drew in a lungful of smoke. “Knives,” he said, throwing a sidelong glance at Neil who was sprawled on the concrete next to him. Neil looked at him for a beat, his mouth tightening fractionally, and nodded, but Andrew noticed anyway.

Andrew noticed everything.

He breathed out the smoke in a thin stream and pulled Neil closer. “Yes or no?” He felt, rather than heard Neil’s “yes”, and skimmed his nose along Neil’s jaw, feeling his breathing stutter and stumble for a second, before pressing his lips to the underside of his chin.

Neil rolled into his touch helplessly, claiming Andrew’s lips urgently, possessively.

The kiss felt like a reassurance. Like the comforting scent of Andrew’s cologne. It felt a little like coming home.

**

_Denver, Year 5_

Neil pattered around the house barefoot, checking the windows, eyes scanning every exit. He unlatched the doors to the balcony and stepped out, relishing the breeze ruffling his auburn curls. He sighed and peered down; eight storeys was a steep jump, but it would do in a pinch, he supposed.

“Checked all the exits?” Andrew drawled, voice carrying a subtle taunt.

Neil hid a smile in his palm and turned to face him. “There are literally only two. One of which is a rather steep jump.”

Andrew held on to the railing with a white-fisted grip and looked to the ground, “ _Rather_ steep is it,” he muttered. Neil laughed, a short, sharp sound, and moved to sit on the cane swing they had hung in the balcony.

“Would you rather live somewhere without a terrace or without an exit?”

Andrew’s posture didn’t change, but Neil could see the slight tension between his shoulder blades across which his shirt was stretched tight. Neil swallowed past the dryness in his throat.

“Without a terrace,” he mumbled, but turned to shoot Neil a dark look. Neil looked a little stunned, “I- what.”

Andrew stalked towards Neil and pulled him closer by his legs, wrapping them around his waist and kissed him deeply. Neil’s hands found their way into his hair, twining the soft strands between his fingers, tugging them lightly. Andrew licked into his mouth, brushing his tongue with his, drawing out a whine from Neil, delighting in it quietly. They broke apart and came up for air, gasping. “I have other ways to feel, junkie,” he said, scratching his fingers over the light stubble on Neil’s jaw, diving in to kiss it a moment later.

Neil looked up at him, smirk tugging his lips up, and Andrew swore at himself.

“Question for you.”

“Hmm,” Neil responded, his read resting against Andrew’s chest, fingers rubbing at the soft material of his shirt.

“Would you rather have ice cream for dinner or not eat at all?”

“Andrew,” Neil squawked indignantly. “You didn’t stock up on groceries, did you?” he accused, glaring at him, and it took everything he had to stifle a laugh that bubbled up his throat.

“Yeah, no,” he shrugged indifferently, even as Neil stomped back inside muttering something that sounded suspiciously like what Kevin would say.

He was back, Andrew’s keys in hand. “We are going grocery shopping.”

“It’s 11pm.”

“I _know_.”

Andrew rolled his eyes and walked out, leaving the door open, letting the breeze wander in.

**

_New York, Year 6_

“Junkie.”

Neil was busy looking around his new place.

“Neil.”

“Huh?”

“Tell me.”

“Two exits, four windows excluding the kitchen. A five-foot drop to the ground. Not difficult. Wait, I haven’t checked the fire exit,” Neil let out in a rush, aware of the adrenaline spiking the tightly coiled anxiety in his gut.

Andrew reached out to grip the back of his neck in an unforgiving grip. Anxiety and adrenaline was nothing new to either of them.

“You are Neil Josten, newest striker to join the New York Exy team. You graduated from Palmetto two months ago. You are a Fox, you always will be one.”

Neil dragged in a painful breath, feeling overwhelmed and dizzy. Andrew’s hand moved to cup his head, bringing it to rest against his chest. Neil timed his breaths to coincide with Andrew’s, and felt himself come down from his dizzying spiral.

“Andrew.”

“Yes?”

“Would you rather take a 3-hour flight or drive for 26 hours?”

Andrew huffed quietly. _The gall._

He felt exposed, raw and vulnerable. A stinging retort was at the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed it.

“I like to feel, remember?” he bit out, regretting it a little when he felt Neil’s hopeful eyes on him.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he grumbled, pushing Neil’s face away.

“I know. I’m not your answer and you aren’t mine,” Neil said, a smile threatening to overtake the vestiges of sullenness at the corner of his lips, “But I do have a question for you.”

“You just asked me one. Wait your turn, Josten.”

“Okay. You ask me then,” he replied, definitely smiling now.

“You’ll call me every night.” He meant it to be a question, but it came out as a statement.

“That’s not a question,” Neil scoffed, nuzzling his face into Andrew’s chest, before placing a soft kiss, and Andrew shuddered.

Neil immediately drew back, concerned. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to- I mean, I did. Sorry,” he stuttered.

Andrew looked at his face, at the uncertainty clouding his eyes and sighed. “It’s okay, junkie.”

“No, it’s not. I didn’t ask. Don’t say it’s okay.”

Andrew felt warmth twinge through his gut. _Unbelievable._ “I hate you,” he said, letting out a controlled breath, jostling Neil.

Neil smiled. He heard him anyway. He heard him always.

**

_Chicago, Year 9_

Neil pushed the door open to their shared apartment, to find all the lights switched off. His watch said it was 7:46pm, and the last dregs of sunlight were receding, leaving the hall in near darkness.

“Andrew?”

Nothing.

He padded into the house and dumped his Exy gear on the floor by the couch and eased open the bedroom door to find a lump under the covers. He sighed and padded in quietly and sat on the edge of the bed. The ball under the covers stirred and a minute later, a blond head peeked out. Neil’s lips twitched at the sight of a familiar scowl.

“Bad day?” he ventured softly, and Andrew nodded.

“Okay. I’m going to take a shower and go grocery shopping. Do you need anything?”

Andrew shook his head and drew the covers up to his forehead and rolled on his side. Bad days were getting to be infrequent, but they hit with the force of a speeding truck, nevertheless.

“Neil,” he rasped out, voice rough with disuse.

Neil turned, hand on the edge of the doorframe, one foot outside. “Yeah?”

He went closer when Andrew beckoned to him with his index finger. He looked pale and his eyes were blanker than usual, and Neil frowned.

“Would you rather stay with me in bed or go grocery shopping?”

Neil smiled. It was a helpless, involuntary thing that he had no control over.

“Stay,” Neil said, and hooked his fingers into the covers. “But let me take a shower first.”

Later, the comforting scent of Neil’s mint bodywash crowded his senses, and the familiarity of the added weight on his bed lulled him to sleep.

Bad days were infrequent and devastating, but they weathered them anyway.

Neil considered cake for dinner.

**

_Germany, Year 14_

“You know half these people are already married.”

Andrew shot Neil an annoyed look. “Yes, Josten. I’m aware.”

Neil hid a smirk behind his hand as he watched Allison twirl Renee around, laughing with abandon. Nicky went past them, loaded with four glasses of champagne, listening intently to something Matt had to say.

If you told Neil Josten when he was at his lowest, that one day he’d find his family, he would have taken you out with his battered car. But now, he dared to believe it. The Foxes milled around him and Andrew -- who was now subtly eyeing the chocolate pudding -- and Neil felt suddenly overwhelmed, as though someone removed the rug from underneath his feet with an exaggerated flourish.

He got up from his seat, ignoring Andrew’s stare and hurried out the back door, drawing a deep lungful of air. His mother would have hated him if she could see where he was now. Neil was tethered to people; Neil was tethered to places; Neil was tethered to a sport; Neil was tethered to a _person_ ; Neil was tethered to a name.

His mother would be livid.

Before the panic could claim him, the heavy brown door banged open and Andrew came out, hazel eyes seeking him out, brows drawn together in worry.

Neil sank down, resting against the wall, and breathed. Andrew, unsurprisingly, sat next to him and flicked his lighter on and off patiently, an endless loop that urged him to breathe.

Through the fog in his head, Neil smiled. Not the razor-edged version reserved for the press, but the softer kind that appeared only in the space between panic and realization.

“You like me,” he proffered quietly, like a prayer to a god he didn’t believe in.

Andrew scoffed. “Is that a question or a statement,” he said, derision hovering at the edges, waiting to take over.

“Maybe a question,” Neil replied, taking the lighter from his hand.

“What do you want me to do? Quantify it?” Andrew sneered, and Neil laughed, sharp and quick, over before it could begin.

“Would you rather,” he said, and Andrew quirked his head to the side, watching him.

“Would you rather watch me watch Exy every night for the rest of your life?”

“That’s not even a proper question, junkie,” Andrew growled, and Neil shrugged, fidgeting with the cuffs of his sleeve.

“Every night?”

Neil looked up to meet Andrew’s eyes. “Every night,” he said, a touch defiantly.

Andrew sucked in a breath and muttered something that suspiciously sounded like “idiot junkie”.

“Every night it is,” he bit out, standing up and pulling Neil to his feet, and wiped out Neil’s smile by pressing him into the wall and kissing him into silence.

It was too blinding. Andrew was helpless. By choice.


End file.
